


Never Again Forget

by Ink



Category: Tales of Legendia
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Resolution, Vignette, endgame spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-27
Updated: 2009-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-05 08:51:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ink/pseuds/Ink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Is this really the extent of your resolve, Miss Valens?</i> Chloe and Alcott talk about justice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Again Forget

**Author's Note:**

> Contains spoilers through the very end of the game. This is something I've wanted to write for a veeeery long time, let's just say.

By the time Chloe gets back to the hospital, it's well into evening and the gathering clouds are turning the sky a dark grey. The air's hot and humid, stale-feeling: a storm's coming, she thinks, pulling open the heavy double doors, and winces a little. Shirley healed any injuries she might have had hours ago, but the phantom ache in her arm is still there. Even Cure has certain side-effects.

Alcott's standing at his counter, grinding what looks to be some sort of paste; he's the only one in the lobby at present. She notices that his sword, usually hung up on the back wall, is leaning against the counter. "Have you been fighting?" she asks, with some surprise.  
   
He looks up. "Ah, Miss Valens. Yes, Elsa and I ran into a little trouble coming back from Port-on-Rage this afternoon. There were some monsters--I believe they originated from that black mist."  
   
"Oh?" She raises her eyebrows. "I hope you're both all right, then."  
   
The look he gives her is long and curious; for some reason, it makes her feel a little uneasy. "We are, thank you. I think the experience tired Elsa out a little--she's upstairs sleeping right now--but neither of us were injured."  
   
"That's good, then," she says, attempting a small smile. "And the mist shouldn't be a problem for you in the future; we've taken care of that."  
   
"Glad to hear it." His gaze travels downward again, and he resumes grinding the paste.  
   
Chloe stands there in the entranceway for a while, wondering whether she shouldn't just go upstairs and turn in for the night. She clears her throat instead. "Ah--what is it you're working on?"  
   
"This?" Alcott asks. "It's a salve for cuts and scratches. A lot of the other townspeople had run-ins with creatures from the black mist as well--no one had more than minor injuries, as far as I know, but there are a few people who might be in need of some of this."  
   
"I see." She hesitates a moment before saying, "Is there anything I can do to help?"  
   
He doesn't look up. "I'm almost done here, actually," he says blandly--it's the tone he always uses when she goes to pick up Elsa or inquires after his health. "But if you really want to help, you can deliver these for me. I'll give you a list of addresses."

"I'll do that, then." She watches him work. His rhythm with the mortar and pestle is even and steady; after a while, he scrapes its contents into a small tin and begins again, dropping into the bowl a few blood-red leaves, some berries, a small grey block that crumbles in his fingers. As always, he remains intent on his work, never so much as looking up, although she can tell he's thinking about something.

He remains intent even as he asks her, in that same placid tone she always hated, "Is this really the extent of your resolve, Miss Valens?"

She opens her mouth to say _Excuse me?_, realizes what he means by that, and says it anyway.

"I'm merely surprised," he explains, still working. "Surprised that after striving for this goal for so many years, you suddenly decided to abandon it. Naturally, I'm glad to be alive, but--"

She knows where this is going--she knows where this is going, and she hopes that her voice is still even. "But what?"

"You can't possibly be satisfied living alongside your parents' murderer. I was under the impression the knights of Valens believed in justice." _Hates_, she thinks. Not past tense. She liked--likes Alcott, talked with him in a friendly enough fashion before she knew who he was, but she hates Stingle, his tone of voice, the way he remains perfectly polite and genteel while turning every word into a quiet barb.  
   
"No one would be served by justice," Chloe says quietly, setting her shaking hands down on the counter. "Not in this situation."

He looks up. "You misunderstand the nature of justice." He talks to her like she's a small child; she seethes. "They call her blind for a reason. Justice is not swayed by considerations of what would be beneficial--she is something much higher than that. She belongs only to herself."

She shoves down the surge of anger that follows his words. "_The other face of justice is compassion,_" she quotes.

If he's surprised that she still knows the old masters, he doesn't show it. "So this _is _the extent of your resolve."

"My resolve," and she shouldn't shout in here but she can't help it, "is to live. Are you quite finished, Alcott?"

Apparently not. "The hardest and truest course a man can take is to, having given his whole life to a cause, then die proudly for it. But in the end there are few men who possess such devotion. It is always easier to live for oneself." It's a passage she can't place, but she catches the meaning and the tone, and that's enough. He pities her.

But she pities him, too, so maybe that just makes them even. "No." She shakes her head. "Sometimes living for yourself is the most selfless thing you can do. I'll take the medicine now, if you're--"

"I'm finished," he says, and pushes it towards her, along with a piece of paper. "Just hand a bottle--"

Behind them, the hard, heavy beating of rain on pavement starts up; the storm's begun.

"--out to all the houses that need it," he finishes. "Are you sure you want to do this? It looks like the rain's coming down pretty hard."

"It's fine. I don't mind the rain." She gathers up all the little bottles, placing them into the bag he's holding out. "Thank you." And then, because she is still the daughter of the house of Valens, and she was taught to be gracious, she takes a deep breath and says, "We do appreciate your assistance. You've done a lot of good work."

He gives her a long look. "It's nothing. I'm only doing my duty."

She smiles, even though it's the hardest thing she's ever done in her life, and then she takes the bag and raises one arm and walks out the hospital door. She's already thinking about tomorrow, when the storm will clear up and they'll be able to see the sky again and the sun will shine so brightly it could break your heart.

She wonders whether Grune is watching right now, and sort of hopes she is. Chloe wants her to be here to see this.


End file.
